A friend once told me that when he read things that I wrote (Facebook, Xanga, journals, etc) I seemed
soft-spoken and quiet. This didn't necessarily shock him. It was only an observation, but I find that people often worry when they see more than one side of me. This doesn't make any sense.
Everyone has their sides, their many facets. More than one person has said that there was more to me than met the eye. There's more to everyone than "what meets the eye".They couldn't have been more right; about me, about anybody.
Of course there's the Dramatic Actress and the Insecure Histrionic... everyone sees those in me. Then there's the Pondering Philosopher and the Inspired Poet. There's the Tortured Soul of the Genius and somewhere in there lies the Elegant Royal, who holds her head high. Don't forget about the Cool-Headed Delinquent who doesn't shiver or cringe when a crime is committed or when blood is shed. She stands right next to the Unabashed Child who cares little for what the world thinks of her imaginary worlds. The Peace-Craving Hippie, Nonjudgmental Idealist, Lady-Like Female, Wandering Bum, Evil Sorceress, Quiet Bookworm, Graceful Dancer, Compassionate Mentor, Attention-Seeking Prep, and Smoldering Seductress all stand side by side, waiting for their turn to break free and show the world what they can be.
I'm loud and quiet, annoying and invisible and obnoxious, energetic and depressed and lethargic and happy. I'm CJ. I'm me.
I've long struggled with 'who I really am', dangling somewhere among "Trying-to-be-Perfect", "Tough-as-Nails", and "Tender-Hearted" and never really knowing where I should rest my identity. I admit that was a mistake. I shouldn't have thought that. They're all very much a part of who I am, as well as all the others I mentioned. "But which one is me? Who is the real Clarissa Joy?" They all are, every single one of them.
Forgive me if I'm brash or cautious, feeling or thinking... this is what we do; we take what facet best fits the current audience and gives them what they want. We're all spinning driedles and whatever side lands up is the part we get to play, the story we get to tell.
It seems early in the morning to me I am tired and weary. I apologize for my incoherent ramblings. I also apologize for (if I can quote a good friend of mine) "my thoughts, I suppose, which are a bit like the cereal at the bottom of the box, mostly crushed to dust. Although sometimes the nifty prize sinks to the bottom, so perhaps in the clarity that sometimes comes with exhaustion I can produce the epistolary equivalent of a Captain Power Decoder Ring...or something...".
Sadly, I'm sure there is no Captain Power Decoder Ring in this spastic discharge of thoughts, mainly because that's all that it is.
But I'm OK with that... because that is a part of me too.
Dropping off the radar,
Maverick, Dodger, Clarissa, Claire, Ceage, Shorty, Princess, CJ
